Respite
by ColieMacKenzie
Summary: It's with each other where they find relief from the havoc of their lives.


**a/n**: Written for a set of tumblr prompts by fembot77. A hurt/comfort/fluff offering for "Fluff Friday" (I think this should be a thing) with very little plot to speak of.

_Thank you for reading and your continued support of my writing, with special love eyeballs going out to those of you who willingly followed me into the dark, scary angst-woods of my last story. Your trust and kindness, your enthusiasm and encouragement keep me going, lift me up, inspire me to challenge myself and make me want to try again even when the words seem unwilling, and it means more than I can truly express._

* * *

**RESPITE**

**...**

* * *

_After a really hard day, sometimes she pampers him._

* * *

.

She knows it's bad when he gets really quiet. When the weight of his sorrows, of worry or anger or disappointment just gets too much and he sinks within himself, drained of everything that makes him, him.

A subdued Castle is hard to take, hurts her heart in a deep, visceral way that makes it hard to breathe. She feels helpless in the face of it, wants to take his burdens from him and has to accept that sometimes, she just can't.

He looks smaller somehow, slouched into his office chair staring out the window and she slides her arms around him from behind, folding them closed over his chest to hold him tightly to her. "Babe," she hums softly, her cheek pressed to his and she can feel the prickle of his evening stubble against the sensitive curve of her jaw. He covers her hands with his, feels heavy when he leans the weight of his head against her, like any last ounce of energy has been sapped from him.

They stay like that for long moments, quiet and motionless with only the steady ticking of the large clock and his slow, burdened breathing breaking through the silence. But he's holding on to her like she is his dry land, and while she knows that it's something he'll have to work through on his own, at least she's there, at least she can be his rock, steady him like he has done for her countless times. It's one of the most precious gifts of their relationship - the security and serenity of just being there.

Kate places a kiss to his cheek, lingers with her lips against his skin. "I'll be right back."

It only takes her about ten minutes to have everything prepared and then she returns to his office, slides her palm across his shoulder and down to meet his hand.

"Come here," she asks, nudges him up gently. His eyes slide up to meet hers and then his whole body follows as he rises from his chair; heavy and sluggish, but he follows.

She guides him into their bedroom. Candlelight bathes the space in a warm, comforting glow, and lavender essential oil is evaporating from the small plug-in burner. By the side of the bed she begins undressing him, lets his shirt drift to the floor, then his pants; pulls off his shoes and his socks until he's standing before her in only his boxer briefs. Castle lets her, just quietly watches her every move with darkened, solemn eyes.

She leans in, brushes her lips to his, her thumb painting caresses along his cheekbone. "Lie down on your stomach."

He slides on the bed, sinking onto the mattress and she crawls after him, hikes a leg over him and sits on his tailbone, carefully settling her weight onto the curve of his rear.

"This okay?" She checks his comfort level, bites on a grin when he grunts his assent into the pillow.

The massage oil matches the lavender scent that fills the bedroom. Kate warms a generous dollop between her palms before she places her hands at the middle of his back, feels the tension strumming beneath his skin.

"Relax." She breathes the word as she slides her palms up the broad stretch of his back, across his shoulder blades and shoulders, letting them reconvene at his neck before she glides down his spine, then repeats the same pattern, and his body noticeably loosens beneath the lulling rhythm of her touch.

She loves his body, appreciates the width of his shoulders, the thick bulk of his muscles and the broadness of his torso that make her feel safe when he stands sentry by her side, taken care of when he folds her into his embrace, when he hovers above her.

Adding her thumbs and knuckles and the balls of her hands to her ministrations, she digs into knots, rubs and kneads the tight strands of muscles.

He's mostly quiet, groans occasionally when she hits a particularly tense spot, and every once in a while she slides her fingertips up into his hair, caresses his scalp in the way that she knows he loves. She notes with satisfaction how the tension of the day seems to drain from him at persistent comfort of her touch, how she can almost sense his mind blanking out.

She gentles her touch when she strokes her hands around his ribcage and down to his lower back, and it doesn't take much more of her soothing caresses until he's drifting off to sleep, his breathing evening out as his distressed mind is reaching for some much-needed rest.

Carefully, she lifts off him, then curls up beside him, her knees tugged up and her hands stacked beneath her cheek. His lashes feather across his cheek, his mouth slack against the pillow and she slides a strand of hair off his forehead, her fingertips lingering against the tender spot of his temple.

She watches over him as he sleeps.

.

* * *

_After a really hard day, sometimes he pampers her._

* * *

.

The tears fall the very moment the door closes behind her, quiet rivulets that streak down her face as she stands motionless in the entryway. Her purse slides from her shoulder, drops unheeded onto the floor and he's out from behind the kitchen island immediately, the soup forgotten on the stove as he hurries toward her, tugs her against his chest the moment he's close enough to reach her.

She sobs, a deep, shuddering thing that wracks her slender body and he folds his arms tightly around her.

"Hey, hey," he murmurs against her ear, his palm curved around the back of her neck, holding her close. "That rough?"

"Yeah." The words brush over his skin where she's nudged into his neck, more whisper than voice but at least she seems to calm. "That rough."

Castle guides her toward the couch, lifts her feet onto his lap once she's settled into the corner and pulls off her boots. She seems to sink further into the cushions when he starts kneading the balls of her feet, and then the words just spill from her mouth, a deluge of sorrow as she fills in the blanks on her current case. Regret curls, sharp and vicious behind his ribcage that he couldn't be there with her today but he doesn't say it, listens instead as she shares her burdens with him. It's not unusual that cases weigh on her; despite all the dark sides of humanity that she has to encounter every day, she's all heart, full of care and compassion for the victims, but every once in a while there'll be a case that just throws her completely.

"I just keep hearing that little girl, you know, these gut-wrenching screams when she cried for her mommy," she reveals at last, and he understands the extent of her grief.

There isn't anything he can say so he continues his ministrations, kneading up the tense muscles in her calves, and gradually her breathing calms into rhythmic, deep inhales and exhales, her body going slack as some of the tension dissipates. He always feels helpless watching her face such despair and carry its burdens within her heart, but at least he now knows how to help her.

"I'll be right back." He rises from the couch, cradles her cheek for a moment as she hums an okay.

In the bathroom he starts the water running in the Jacuzzi tub, adds the scented bath salts she prefers, and hits the switch for the bathtub heater to keep the temperature even for a lengthy soak. Retrieving various candles from the linen closet, he arranges them along the side board of the tub and atop the counter. When he turns off the main light the candlelight flickers and dances in the steamy air, bathing everything in a warm, hazy glow. It's not overly spectacular but it will do the trick. He gets the paperback she's currently reading from her nightstand, places it at the edge of the tub before he returns to the living room.

She hasn't moved from the position he's left her in so he leans over her, slides an arm beneath her knees and the other around her shoulder blades, and lifts her up into his arms.

"I can walk, Castle," she protests but it's halfhearted; doesn't seem like she means it when she snuggles into him, allows him to carry her to their bathroom. Once he's placed her back on her feet, he helps with opening the long row of buttons of her blouse, sliding the fabric off over her shoulders and down her arms while he presses a lingering kiss to her forehead.

"Let me get you a glass of wine."

In the kitchen he pours two glasses of red, turns off the stove top where his soup has simmered down into a thick paste, not that he cares. When he returns she's in the bathtub already, her eyes closed as the water whirls around and over her. She's so beautiful, in every way possible, and he still finds amazed by her at the most random, ordinary moments, his breath caught in his lungs and flutters in his stomach.

Kate blinks her eyes open when he's reached the side of the tub, watches him silently with those large, intense eyes. Castle leans over, places her wine glass on the edge of the tub. When he tries to straighten up, her fingers grip into his shirt, keeping him close.

"Join me?" It's a plea so soft that his heart stumbles in his chest. He nods.

"Of course." Shedding his clothing as quickly as he can, he leaves everything in a haphazard pile on the bathroom floor.

Kate scoots forward to make room and he slides in behind her, leaning back against the side of the Jacuzzi and then drawing her onto him. She nestles into the cradle of his legs, her lithe body relaxing against his, and he starts running his hands up her arms and across her shoulders, gently massages the tense muscles before he caresses down her sides, her thighs, then back up again. He loves her skin, soft like silk beneath his fingertips, loves her shape, the gentle curves and the core of strength beneath, loves the way she trusts him with her vulnerable facets.

She's drifting; he can feel it in the way she grows heavier in his arms, all of her lulled by the warmth of the water lapping at her skin and the gentle strokes of his hands. Her breathing evens out as he caresses every plane and valley of her skin he can reach.

He watches over her as she sleeps.


End file.
